Purple
by Moya-chan
Summary: "Hello, Kurt," The man who addressed him was sitting in a wheelchair and had kind eyes that seemed to pierce him. His voice had a calming timbre. "My name is Charles Xavier." Challenge crossover for reel glee LJ community.


**Title:** Purple  
**Author:** moya_no_baka  
**Rating:** PG  
**Characters/Pairing:** Puck/Kurt hinted, Mercedes, Artie, other Gleeks  
**Genre:** Angst (with little bit of romance and friendship); Crossover  
**Warning:** Some light emotional trauma  
**Spoilers:** General spoilers for Glee and X-Men movies  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters or the universe. I wish I did though.  
**Author Notes:** This is a challange crossover made for reel_glee and my chosen fandom was X-Men (movieverse). Extra brownie points to those who get the FMA reference.  
**Summary:** _"Hello, Kurt," The man who addressed him was sitting in a wheelchair and had kind eyes that seemed to pierce him. His voice had a calming timbre and he had an aura of authority around him. "My name is Charles Xavier."_  
**Beta:** devlinnreiko  
**Word Count:** 5.250

* * *

The journey back to consciousness was slow and tiresome. Kurt could feel it as the blackness left him; he wanted to cling to that oblivious state for a little while longer, but he couldn't hold on. There was a beeping sound somewhere in the background – it was annoying and it pulled him towards the surface of awareness he wanted to avoid. It took a while, but he could feel someone holding his hand, squeezing lightly, rough-padded thumb sliding slowly over the skin of his knuckles. The hand was big, warm and slightly calloused, but the touch was nothing, but gentle. When the light scent of motor oil reached him Kurt knew it was his dad.

Kurt wanted to open his eyes, but somehow he couldn't as his eyelids seemed to be glued together. He panicked for a moment and he must have made some distressed sound, because his father was making those soothing noises he used to do when he was a kid plagued with nightmares of his mother's death. After just a short moment there was a warm, soft cloth rubbing lightly over his encrusted eyelids, until he could open his eyes and blink a couple of times trying to focus his sight.

"Better?" Burt was sitting at the edge of his bed, putting the washcloth away and one of his hands ran over his son's ruffled hair. Kurt nodded, still blinking hard to get rid of the sleep clinging to him. He could feel his head pounding in what must have been the migraine of the century, only kept at bay by drugs he could feel in his system, making him feel somewhat fuzzy and disoriented.

"What happened? Why I'm in the hospital?" Kurt gasped out, one hand rubbing over his tired eyes, the other still clinging to his father's hand, seeking comfort. Burt frowned and his lips formed that tight, hard line that Kurt knew from the times when his dad used to worry too much.

"What do you remember?" Burt asked cautiously, not exactly sure how to tackle the subject that was about to change their entire lives. Kurt focused, pushing away the sleepiness that drugs tried to force onto him and thought back to the last thing he could remember.

He was in his high school, walking back to his next class from lunch crossing the yard to another building. There were dozens of students around him and he was chatting about the latest movie with one of the guys from cinematography club when he was jerked back and violently pushed against the side of the nearby dumpster. The metal dug painfully into his ribs and there were some distressed shouts around him, but all Kurt could focus on were faces of Azimio and Karofsky as they sneered at him. Kurt couldn't even remember what they wanted from him – probably something stupid again, that he should stop dressing and acting like a queer or something – but he could remember the first punch that landed on his already bruising ribs, knocking him to the ground.

And then the pattern changed.

Usually, they would land a few more punches on him and throw him into a dumpster, while the nearby watchers protested, but did nothing to actually help him as if they would be target marked just by association. But Kurt had enough. Enough of the bullying, dry-cleaning bills that stacked up in his house, punches, slushies, and patriotic wedgies. He glanced up at them, at their grinning faces and felt something snap inside of him. He felt like he was slowly submerged in warm, calm water that closed around him, muffling the sounds and sharpening his senses. He could feel, even _see_ the anger from his attackers, the satisfaction and sick sense of amusement. The negative emotions around their silhouettes resembled red swirls, moving in angry, aggressive way. He focused on the negativity heavily pressing down on him and reached out with his own thoughts, pushing the emotions and the colors back, until they lashed right back at the boys, adding the weight of his own humiliation over the years, the __-

"No!" Kurt's eyes flew open as he sat up in his hospital bed. Burt's arms held him steady, but he struggled to get out of his grip, recalling what he had done and needing to get away from one person he couldn't afford to hurt. Kurt closed his eyes, trying to forget the images that popped right back into his mind, but he couldn't help to remember the rest of the incident.

He could see Azimio and Karofsky tumbling to the ground suddenly, clutching at their heads. He felt a weird sense of surprise and amazement at that sight and it lasted a whole second before he was startled by the screams. The jocks were screaming, as if something had been eating them alive, a bone-chilling, animalistic sound that made him sick to his stomach. There were other screams, of nearby watchers, of faculty members rushing to them. He could see the agony on their faces and could smell a sharp odor of urine around them. The last thing he remembered was the blackness creeping up the edges of his sight and world suddenly tilting sideways as he lost consciousness.

"No, don't touch me!" Kurt's arms flailed as his father tried to get a hold of them, saying something to calm him down, but he wasn't listening. He dug his heels into the mattress and pushed and before Burt could grab him, he fell down from the other side of the bed with a dull thud. His IV tore from his hand and he never even registered it, not with the images of tortured teenagers in his head and the pressing need to get away from his dad, to shield the one person he loved from the same fate. There were sounds of steps around him, hands grabbing at his shoulders, but he wiggled away from them, crawling on his back until he hit the wall. He could _taste_ the anger that lashed out from him and into the two boys and the nausea took him over. He must have looked sick, because there were hands turning him around, just in time. One steady arm circled his heaving chest, the other hand gently cradled his forehead, making sure he didn't puke all over himself. When the last of dry heaves were over, Kurt's frantic behavior finally calmed and on some level he registered that it was his father who was holding him.

"I'm sorry," He rasped out, throat sore after the heaves. Angry tears were streaming down his face and he couldn't stop the tremors that shook his frame. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened."

"It's ok." Burt ran one hand over his hair, as if smoothing it down. "It's going to be ok."

Kurt shook his head, not really believing him. Burt only held him tighter.

* * *

"Kurt?"

His father's voice roused him from his thoughts, and he looked at the older man from his spot on the windowsill where he curled up almost every day. It was his safe place, away from people whom he could hurt and the view from his window was calming. Their street was usually pretty empty until afternoon, when kids came back from school and their parents came back from work. For the last two weeks he had spent his days holed up in his mother's room, just staring at the view. He didn't know what was happening in his own school or if there were any rumors about him flying around. His peers liked to gossip and the day the resident queer took down two jocks without anyone noticing wouldn't be soon forgotten. Kurt didn't really care. He felt numb and indifferent, not really paying attention to anything, except to the little snippets of information his father passed to him. Thanks to that he knew that Azimio and Karofsky woke up from their comas a week ago and he doubted they would be up to harassing anyone ever again.

"There's someone here to see you."

"No." Kurt only shook his head, his gaze turning back to the window. "No more shrinks."

"I don't think he's a shrink, son." Kurt flinched when his father rested a warm, heavy hand on his shoulder. Burt had insisted on touching him, on keeping close, even though he knew Kurt was scared shitless of hurting him by accident. "At least he doesn't look like any other shrink I have seen. He wants to talk to you about what happened."

Kurt looked up at him, disbelief in his eyes. Burt knew perfectly well he never wanted to talk about that day with anyone.

"I think he can help. A lot of what he had said to me actually made sense. Can you at least give it a try?"

Kurt merely blinked, wondering. He really wasn't up to seeing anyone, but his father had that pleading look in his eyes, not the _ 'please-tell-me-those-jeans-didn't-cost-me-200-bucks'_ look, but the one that said _ 'I-don't-know-how-to-help-you-and-it's-killing-me'_.

He hated that look.

It made him feel guilty just about _everything_ and he knew his father wasn't doing it on purpose - to coerce him into seeing physicians and shrinks – and that fact hurt so much he could barely stand it. So he left his sanctuary, that room that smelled of chamomile, sunshine and his mother's fading perfume and went downstairs to confront the stranger in their living room.

"Hello, Kurt," The man who addressed him was sitting in a wheelchair and had kind eyes that seemed to pierce him. His voice had a calming timbre and he had an aura of authority around him. "My name is Charles Xavier."

Kurt only nodded, sitting on the edge of the couch opposite of the man. His muscles were tense, as if he was ready to bolt any second. Burt settled next to him, after giving him a reassuring pat on his back. Xavier didn't miss the way Kurt flinched at the gesture and boy's face fell for a moment, obviously upset at his own involuntary reaction.

"I'm here to talk to you about what happened two weeks ago. Your father told me you weren't coping with it very well," He paused when Kurt turned to give his dad an icy glare, but Burt seemed to be used to it. "I'm sure you're confused about what happened but I guess you already suspect what you are."

"A mutant," Kurt's voice was calm, though he refused to look at occupants of the room, instead focusing on the particularly interesting thread on his sweater's sleeve.

"Yes. You are an empath, Kurt. You can see and manipulate people's emotions and to some extent, their thoughts."

Kurt finally glanced up and Xavier felt a surge of sympathy for the boy, as his eyes were wide and frightened. He realized Kurt knew about his mutation, just couldn't put a name on his particular abilities so far.

"I didn't mean to!" Kurt turned towards his dad, his hands shaking a little as he gestured widely in his distress. "They were hurting me and I didn't know I could do that, I swear!"

Burt took his son's hands in his, ignoring the flinch that these days seemed to be always present and pulled him down from his spot on couch's armchair.

"I know, son. I know you didn't mean to hurt them back. They are fine; you haven't done anything that will last. Calm down."

"Usually," Xavier joined their conversation, giving Kurt time to collect his thoughts and feelings. "The first signs of mutation appear during puberty, but it's not unheard of for the gene to activate later, usually during period of stress or when experiencing strong emotions. I am not surprised your empathic ability manifested itself when you were attacked."

"Ability?" Kurt spat, suddenly angry. "It's not an ability, it's a curse! A disease! How do I fix it?"

"Kurt," Xavier's voice was calm and collected, trying to get him to see reason. "Mutation is not a disease. It's just another step in chain of evolution, a natural progress of mankind's development. You're not flawed or broken. There's nothing to fix."

"I don't want it!" Kurt shot up from his spot on the couch wanting to flee, but instead he started to pace in the living room, fury clear on his face. For the second time in two weeks he could feel the sensation of warm water closing around him, stilling his frantic thoughts. Glancing back at his father, he was startled when he could see a pale yellow aura of worry around him and green-gray calmness of Xavier.

"No!" He jumped back, only momentarily stunned due to his back's impact with the wall. He shook his head, trying to hold on, to push down something that was starting to blossom in his chest, scared to death of what it could do. He slumped down the wall, squeezing his eyes tight and breathing like had just run a marathon. "Make it stop!"

Suddenly, the pressure in his chest was elevated, like someone had taken off a huge weight from him, helping him breathe again. He let out a relieved sob when the feeling of water closing on him disappeared. He risked opening his eyes to glance at the room, noticing with surprise that his dad wasn't there. His panic returned for a second.

"I thought it would be best if your father left for a moment, so we could talk in private."

Kurt's head whipped around to look at Xavier, still as calm and collected as he had been at the beginning of their conversation.

"You stopped it," Kurt realized suddenly, his mouth dropping a little in wonder. "You actually made it stop."

"_You're not the only one with gifts._"

Kurt blinked once, then again. He could hear Xavier's words just fine, but something must have been wrong with his eyes, because he couldn't actually _see_ the other man speak.

"_Your eyes are perfectly fine, I assure you._"

"Okay, that is definitely weird," Kurt protested, standing upright on his still slightly shaky knees. "You can communicate with me in my head, you can make my empathy stop."

Xavier merely nodded.

"I'm guessing it's not a social visit and you haven't just dropped in to enlighten me on my freakish abilities."

"You're not a freak, Kurt," Xavier repeated himself once again, hoping the message would get across to the boy eventually. "But you're right; I came to talk to you and your father about your further education. I'm the owner and headmaster of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters in Westchester County. It's a private institution with ranges from elementary school to equivalent of college courses. I would like to invite you to continue your education there."

"A boarding school?" Kurt looked wary, not sure what to make of the offer. "We can't actually afford it at the time."

"You don't have to worry about money, son." Burt appeared behind them in the doorway, assuming the horizon was clear and the crisis was over.

"Your father is right. Your stay at the school won't cost you anything," Xavier nodded towards the other man.

"Where's the catch?"

"There is no catch. It's a school that will provide you with education, as well as help you control your abilities. Empathy is a powerful gift, but it can be dangerous if you don't know how to use it. It can hurt others, but it can also backlash at you causing severe damage. We can help you achieve the level of control you will need in your life. You see, our students are all mutants, like most of our staff. We accept anyone with mutant powers – both people from wealthy families as well as orphans and runaways," Xavier's eyes saddened a little. "A lot of people think that mutants are dangerous. Families turn away from their own, parents throw out their children, because they are too scared. Many of the mutants turn to anger and hate; many think we're superior to non-mutants. We try to change that point of view, even if it's one person at the time. Let me tell you more about my school. Hopefully you will agree to join us."

To Kurt, that speech sounded just a little bit rehearsed. But then again, if they really helped him control his... powers (and how weird was that, him sounding like something out of a comic book), then he had no other choice.

"Fine. I just hope the others can handle being around me. A fabulous, queer freak. That's not something everyone can stomach easily."

Burt sputtered a little at Kurt's defiant tone, ready to apologize to the headmaster, but Xavier only smiled.

"I believe you will be surprised."

* * *

Stepping out of the car Kurt couldn't help but to gape a little. The Xavier's School was ridiculously huge, with the surrounding grounds spanning wide. The whole thing looked strangely like a castle and Kurt could feel his stomach turn a little. He honestly wasn't sure that he would fit in, despite Xavier's reassurance. He jumped a little when Burt's hand clamped on his shoulder lightly.

"You're going to be fine."

Kurt wasn't convinced, but he nodded anyway.

They crossed the short distance between the parking ground and what looked like main entrance to school. The garden they were passing through was well cared for, with evenly cut lawn and trimmed shrubs. In a little distance he noticed a blonde planting something in a flowerbed. As Kurt observed, she raised her hand above the ground and slowly, as if it was by magic a small, fully formed azalea bush rose from underneath. Kurt blinked, making sure he wasn't seeing things and that was when the blonde noticed him staring. She seemed surprised for a second, and then she just smiled and gave him a little wave. He waved back.

"I hope you managed to drive here without any problems," Xavier came out to meet them, his wheelchair buzzing slightly as he moved towards them. A pretty redheaded woman was walking next to him. "It's not exactly an easiest location to find."

While his father made some small talk with Xavier and what apparently was one of the teachers, Kurt stood a little to the side, focusing on not falling over. During his visit in their house in the previous week, Xavier gave him a quick lesson on strengthening his mental shields, but it was hardly enough. It was a constant battle with his own mind and it left him exhausted all the time. He took another glance in the direction of the plant-controlling girl, but she was gone.

"Kurt?"

He turned around to face the adults again, feeling slightly dazed.

"I was wondering if you would like to see your room," Xavier asked. "I'm sure you could use some rest. I can get one of the students to show you the way and your father and I will take care of your transfer papers."

"Sure," Kurt looked back at his father. "Come see me before you leave?"

"I will. Go get some rest; you look like you're ready to drop."

Xavier had closed his eyes for a second, as if concentrating. A moment later Kurt let out an undignified yelp as someone appeared next to him with a barely audible 'pop'.

"You called, Professor X?" The girl next to him didn't seem to mind the surprised expression on faces of the newcomers. She had dark skin, a full, round figure and an absolutely _flawless_ hairstyle.

"Mercedes, I would like you to show Kurt the way to his room since he'll be staying with us. I believe Artie currently doesn't have a roommate."

The girl turned towards him while he still felt a little stunned by her sudden appearance and looked him up and down, frowning a little. Whatever criteria she was judging him with he apparently passed, because she gave him a bright smile.

"Mark Jacobs. _Nice_," She took him by his arm, tugging him a little towards the door until he stumbled after her. "I'm sure we will get along just fine."

Absentmindedly, Kurt let himself be dragged away, but he did cast one last desperate _ 'help me'_ look towards his father, who was grinning at him. Kurt almost did a double take, because he hadn't seen his father laugh in weeks. He smiled back, before being dragged away into the depths of the ridiculous castle-like building.

* * *

Artie turned out to be a boy his age, with large black-rimmed glasses and a nice, deep voice. He was also in a wheelchair, but that didn't seem to stop him, since he could levitate – _levitate for god's sake!_ – himself almost anywhere. They shared interests in movies and music, so Kurt had a feeling that they would become friends quickly. Artie also hadn't made any comment about his sometimes unusual wardrobe or skin care products as he unpacked his suitcase, which was good. Kurt definitely had enough bullying over the years and he was slowly starting to believe Xavier. Even with all his quirks and faults so far Kurt was accepted by others. He figured freaks stayed loyal to his own, but the word 'freak' was slowly losing its sting.

Mercedes quickly made herself almost a permanent addition to his bed as they often lazed around together, flipping through the fashion magazines and bitching at the prices of new designer lines. She apparently didn't mind becoming his fag hag and embraced the role with enthusiasm that made Kurt's heart warm up a little.

He arrived at Xavier's school on Friday and it took him a couple of days to get to know his teachers and classmates. He learned that most of the teaching staff were taught by Xavier himself and that apparently they were also a part of something bigger. At first he didn't understand what was going on, but then one night the earth shook and a sleek, black plane emerged from underneath basketball court. Kurt was staring at it from his window and when it took off he turned to look at Artie. The other boy just shrugged and told him about the X Men.

And wow, didn't _that_ explain what Logan was doing in the school, because the short-tempered man certainly wasn't fit to be a teacher.

The other students in his class were a mixed bunch when it came to their characters, as well as their powers. A tall guy named Finn, who had pretty cool invisibility power, caught his eye since the first day. Kurt entertained the idea of hitting on the guy, but he quickly figured out he was both straight as a ruler and entirely clueless of Kurt's attention. He gave up quickly, deciding that Finn was a sweet guy, but definitely unfit to be a match to a diva like him.

The blonde girl he had seen on his first day was also there. Quinn had sharp tongue and quick wit and he felt drawn to her queen-bee attitude. She seemed pretty close to two other girls, Santana and Brittany. The Latino girl had a pretty freaky power of possession and was able to take control of other people's bodies. Brittany was the biggest air-head he had ever known in his life, but she had nifty healing ability.

Then there was Tina, a tiny Asian girl who had control over the darkness and shadows. She seemed to accent those abilities with her clothing, a mix of emo-goth that strangely suited her. Sitting next to her in class was Rachel. That girl had an ego that rivaled his own but, much to his satisfaction her style was so inferior to his that it was practically non-existent. Her sonic scream powers suited her well – her voice could literally make heads explode.

Matt and Mike were a pair of roommates and friends that seemed to be almost joined at the hip. Kurt wasn't exactly sure if they had pinged on his gaydar, but he had time to figure it out. Mike could run with supersonic speed and jump incredibly high and Matt had this cool power of duplication, which meant he could be in a couple of places at once. In one of his first classes Matt had told him that one of his duplicates was still snoozing in bed and catching some well-needed rest while he was studying. Kurt was green with envy – it was the best time-management skill _ever_.

The last guy in his class was Noah, but everyone except for the teachers called him Puck. He had something that the teachers called 'basic molecule manipulation', which essentially meant he could make almost anything non-organic from any material at hand. Later on he learned that in order to make something, Puck had to use a matter of the same atomic weight. In rare glimpse of his inner nerd Kurt called it an 'equivalent exchange principle'.

Kurt could certainly appreciate Puck's handsome features and well-toned body, but just like Finn – who was his roommate – he seemed to be entirely into girls. Kurt had, after all, seen him flirt with Quinn _and_ Santana at the same time, not that the girls paid much attention to it. Initially, Kurt thought that the other boy was somewhat of an ass, the same jock-type as Azimio and Karofsky and he was half-expecting Puck to throw him into a dumpster or pour a slushie all over his head.

That first impression changed the first time Kurt's control over his empathy slipped.

Kurt had been living in the school for couple of weeks. They were sitting in the living room, sprawled over nearly any vertical surface. The group seemed to hang out together pretty often and Kurt, considering his newbie status in the school, blended in pretty quickly. The boys were watching some football game on the huge flatscreen TV, occasionally throwing bits of popcorn at the screen and screaming in righteous anger when the team they favored wasn't doing well. Kurt opted to move towards the group of girls, huddled together in a circle of gossip. Everything was fine until nearly the end of the game and Kurt had really good time, silently thankful for having people around him that he could call friends.

And then it all went to hell.

His startled in alarm when a wisp of annoyed blue aura emerged from Matt as the referee in the game did something in favor of opposite team. There was some red coming from others, their anger visible. Kurt wasn't really coping well with feelings of anger, not since Azimio and Karofsky, but this anger wasn't directed at him, wasn't as vicious and uncontrolled as he remembered from the two jocks. He flinched when Mercedes had touched his arm and a deep feeling of confusion was seeping into his bones, orange aura clouding his vision. He could see her mouth moving, as if she was saying something, but he couldn't make out the words, not with the heavy feeling of water closing around him slowly.

Kurt bolted out of his chair and closed his eyes when the orange blended into worried yellow, making him sick to his stomach with the intensity of it. His heart was hammering in his chest as he slid down the wall, as far away from the others as possible. He knew he should have warned them; told them to get away, but speaking seemed impossible.

"Kurt?" Mercedes' voice got through the haze of feeling pressing on him from every direction and he put his hands over his ears, cutting it off.

"Go away," He flinched at the white panic that tore through him in painful waves as one of the guys – probably Mike - ran out from the room to look for Xavier or any of the teachers. Kurt knew he was never going to make it in time, not before he lashed out on them. His heart fell when he realized he was about to hurt the same people he had called friends just few minutes ago.

Then, much to his surprise, the sickening yellow slowly turned to green and gray, lifting the oppressing feeling of nausea from him. He risked opening his eyes, fully expecting Xavier to be there.

Puck was crouching next to him.

Kurt blinked a couple of times, not really sure what was happening. The room was empty, the TV still on.

"I told the others to leave us for a minute; Thought you might want to get yourself together in private."

"How?" Kurt's hands dropped from his ears. He could still feel the pressure of water around him, but nothing wrong was happening to Puck. He wasn't screaming in horrifying black pain, he wasn't dropping unconscious from fear like Azimio had. The green swirls moved around him slowly, extending to Kurt and enfolding him. Kurt gaped in wonder, raising his hand a little and seeing the green calm and gray support threading around his fingers. The tranquility that came from it brought peace to his heart, erasing and pushing out the worry and fear. Puck's hand dropped on his shoulder and Kurt sighed with ease. He didn't know what was happening, but it didn't bring pain to him or anyone else and that was good enough for him.

"My mother is an empath," Puck explained as he sat down next to the other boy, his back to the wall, their shoulders touching and keeping up the connection. "When my father left us there were times when her control slipped. I learned what to do to help her through it."

"I see," Kurt wiggled his fingers gently and watched the green wisps follow his movement. The different shades of green and gray went up his arm and shoulder, the color intensifying in the spot where their shoulders met. Kurt watched in fascination as the tendrils of aura wound up on Puck's own arm, traveling over his neck and chest and setting like an ornate, tribal tattoo.

"I'm not hurting you," There was some awe in his voice and he had to stop himself from reaching out and touching one delicate wisp curling over Puck's collarbone. Puck didn't seem to mind Kurt's staring.

"No."

"Why?"

"You're still projecting," Puck shrugged, and the mass of aura moved with him, rearranging itself in new pattern. "When it's out of control like that you're projecting back the feeling you're registering at the moment. When the only feeling is calmness, you give it back in return. It's like constant linked feedback."

"You seem to know more about it than I do," Kurt yawned, feeling suddenly tired. From his earlier episodes he knew the uncontrolled empathy would eat away at his energy until he had none left. Xavier said it was normal for empaths whose shields suddenly collapsed.

"Had more experience," Puck didn't say anything when Kurt's head came to rest on his shoulder. "You're gonna crash?"

"Mhm," Kurt sighed, letting himself go and felt the green tranquility of emotions. He blinked sleepily at the tendril of purple that rose from his chest and wound itself around Puck's bicep, making the other boy chuckle. It was happiness, appreciation, thankfulness. It was a good emotion, a positive one; it made others feel good and made him smile. Kurt decided that purple was his new favorite color. He could definitely do purple. It would look good against his fair skin.

He wondered if Puck liked it as well. He could ask later on, after he woke up.


End file.
